Now that Rafael’s important to her, it’s doubtful I have the same place in her life.
It raises the question: now that the dynamics have changed, whatismy place? Do I even have one anymore? This line of thinking drowns me in a pool of self-pity, born of my insecurities, confusion, and loneliness.
“Come back to me,” Tristano says. He leans closer than before and sweeps his lips across the side of my neck, just above my hammering pulse. “Don’t leave now that I’ve found you.”
A sigh flows from my mouth at the feel of his lips pressed against my skin. My body rises in temperature from the heat radiating off him and onto me, and a flush slowly covers me, one of both anticipation and arousal.
“What?” I breathe. I’m quickly losing the battle of keeping my lungs filled with air and my breaths regular. My pants are near soundless, but I feel each one extensively. They’re proof of the weakness that assails me whenever Tristano touches me.
He lifts his head to stare down at me and then lightly taps my temple once. “You hide in there and I assume it’s because of some unpleasant experiences.” He drags his index finger down the side of my face, languidly tracing the curve of my cheek and the length of my jaw, before dragging his fingertip along the seam of my lips. “I would know your thoughts, your secrets, and your desires, Violetta.”
“Why?”
“You already convey so much without even speaking, which leads me to believe if you actually did, it’d be enlightening. But also, I seek clarity in all things to avoid ambivalence, which often turns into disarray. And with you I can’t be certain of anything, although I’m rarely wrong when it comes to people.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Tristano what he sees when he looks at me. Is it a child on the cusp of adulthood? Or a woman and potential lover? Does he see me as an extension of my sister and not as my own individual? Or am I so enmeshed with Carina that no one knows who I am without her?
I bite the inside of my cheek until blood flows across my tongue. I’ve never really thought of my life without my sister because it’s my greatest fear, more than anything in this world. And now that nightmare has joined the one featuring Ugo.
For me, Carina is both a source of comfortandfear.
I’ve never wanted to acknowledge that because the thought feels disloyal. I’ve struggled against this line of thinking, but it’s done nothing except create an emotional distance from me to her, a gorge I’m not sure she can lessen or bridge.
Tristano takes my face between his hands and the contact jars me, causing me to blink rapidly. “Have I upset you?” he asks, his voice stark with worry. He sweeps his thumbs just under my eyes and the dampness there surprises me.
And humiliates me.
I haven’t cried since the night my sister was forced to leave our father’s home.
After slamming my palms against Tristano’s chest, I shove with all my might. I refuse to break down in front of him and the very idea of doing that has me almost vibrating from the energy shooting through me, urging me to be alone. Tristano doesn’t take more than a single step back, yet that’s all I need.
I tear my face away from his hold and quickly spin to the right in order to remove myself from reach. Then I make a beeline for the door, running like the devil is on my heels. My steps aren’t soundless and Beni swivels his head in my direction from where he reclines on the couch, his brows inching up his forehead.
“Wha—”
The fact that he doesn’t stop me from wrenching the front door open and darting outside is a clear indication Tristano’s right behind me. If he wasn’t, Beni would’ve done whatever he needed to detain me.
“Leave me alone,” I say in the wind, not daring to turn back and look.
Instead I run until my lungs feel as if they’re being clenched in a fist and my legs shake so badly I stumble. It’s only when my vision blurs with tears and my chest aches unbearably that I slow down and sink to the ground. The moon provides enough light, but the trees overhead block out a lot of it with the fullness of their leaves.
A breeze, full of warmth and moisture, blows past me and it’s as though Mother Nature is offering her sympathies. My behavior could be blamed on a number of things, such as my age, the events of the past couple days, or the stress I’m under. It’s none of those.
I don’t know who Violetta is and it’s terrifying.
Minutes pass with me weeping uncontrollably. Or has it been only seconds? What does time matter if you don’t really know your identity? Or how to find it?
“That’senough.”
I squeeze my eyes shut at the sound of Tristano’s stern voice. I’ve felt his presence the entire time and I’m not stupid enough to think he’d let me waltz off into the night unguarded. Knowing he watched me cry is shameful and I’m already retreating back into my mind where it’s safe, gathering my silence around me like a forcefield to keep me from opening up again. And to keep people out.
Tristano isn’t subtle at all when he walks over and positions himself directly in front of me. The weight of his footsteps, unheard when he followed me, reveal his determination, as well as his vexation. I open my eyes but keep my gaze lowered. It takes time to get into such a deep state of mind and if I look at him I may not be able to stay quiet.
“Violetta, you’re going to get up right now and then we’re going to return to the guest house where you will explain this emotional outburst, as well as answer any questions I have. Entirely with your voice.Hai capacito?”
Rebelling against my father was easy because he didn’t want my secrets, he wanted my subjugation. But Tristano wants everything from me and he’s willing to take it.
But I’d freely give it all to him, if he’d only reciprocate.
